


The Lies We Carry

by Actualplanetpluto



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Grief, Multi, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 7,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actualplanetpluto/pseuds/Actualplanetpluto
Summary: After losing his soulmate, Enjolras created Les Amis- as a support group for people in similar situations. But what does being soulmates even mean?(AKA- the soulmate au from hell that nobody anywhere asked for)No major character death. I promise





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate AU where every lie your soulmate tells you appears on your forearm where it stays until replaced by a new lie.  
> This is also a Broadway au, which is unfortunate, considering my limited knowledge of how theater actually works. It was an accident. 
> 
> I apologize in advance.

"Feuilly, you did good today. I'm proud of you."  
"I hate this," Feuilly said quietly, not lifting his head. "I hate coming here."  
"I think we all do at first," Enjolras said, sinking into the abandoned seat at his right. "But you came. And that's something you should be proud of, Feuilly. I think she would be proud."  
"Please," Feuilly raised his head, voice cracking. "Don't"  
"Will you get home safe tonight?"  
Feuilly sighed. "Yeah. I have to. Renee's waiting." He shook himself and stood up.  
"She's lucky to have you, Feuilly. You're a good father. Good night."  
"Thank you, Enjolras."  
\----------  
Enjolras frowned. Sometimes it was a frown of anger. More often a frown of concern. Sometimes-very rarely- it was a frown of sadness. His friends liked to say that he could frown any emotion.  
He had a permanent crease between his eyes from all the frowning.  
New members of the group were always thrown off by that. Everyone expects to see frowns at a support group, but no one expects them from the leader.  
"Frowning doesn't answer my question, Enj," Courf broke in, smiling sadly.  
Enjolras frowned harder at him. He seemed more suited for leader. He smiled every emotion.  
He was worried-smiling now.  
"I don't have an opinion," he blurted, not entirely sure what he was being asked.  
"You have an opinion on everything, always, sweetheart," Combferre interjected, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Feuilly' hitting you hard, huh?"  
"New people always do," Courf said, moving to sit on his other side. "It gets to me too. It's almost like reliving it through them."  
"But tomorrow will be better," Combferre said, lifting his coffee cup. "Every day gets better."  
Combferre wore his sleeves rolled up, a little victory shared with only one other member of their group. Enjolras had tried twice. He'd never made it more than 20 minutes.  
Of course Ferre insisted that it was a completely different situation. Andre's last lie had been a simple one. "I picked it up last night." Combferre still missed him like crazy, but the words written on his forearm didn't make it any more painful.  
When Enjolras looked at his arm he couldn't breathe. The last lie Gil had told had been his last words.  
"Enjolras, this wasn't your fault."  
Courfeyrac cleared his throat. "Enj, did we lose you again?"  
"Sorry. Sorry. I just-" he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. I'm good. I'll get there. You wanted my opinion on something?"  
"The costume design I sent you last night. You forgot to look at it didn't you?"  
He had forgotten. He'd opened the message to get rid of the notification and gone back to his email. "Sorry."  
"You have to stop apologizing, E. We get it." Courfeyrac passed Hingis his laptop. "You can check it out now."  
The design was beautiful. Courf's designs always were. But-  
"I don't know that it's the right color. Didn't you use a dark green on the husband? When they stand near each other, she's gonna look washed out, no?"  
"Fair point?" Courf said, pulling the laptop back and plugging in his tablet. "Maybe a peach," he muttered.  
"Well, now we've lost him," Ferre sighed. "Did you know he worked on that design for a week? Finally, last night, he finishes it. Last night he shut up about it. Enjolras. Do me a favor. Next time he asks? You say 'it looks perfect, Courf.' Okay? Please?"  
Enjolras smiled at that. "Have you started casting yet?"  
"Yeah. We're looking at a really great group. I wish you'd audition," he added wistfully. "Get the old team back together."  
"We are together. The meetings-"  
"You know it's not the same."  
"It'll never be the same. Not without Gil."  
"Will you at least come down to auditions with me? I could use your insights?"  
"Sure."


	2. Chapter 2

The next day found Enjolras at the auditions with a very moody Combferre.   
"The coffees to sweet. If I could, I would fire you for this."  
"What did I do?" Enjolras asked indignantly.   
"The colors were wrong, huh? He woke me up at 3 in the morning. Then again at 4. Do you know why? To check if the new colors worked. I'm tired, I can't drink this coffee and it's all your fault."  
Enjolras sighed. "So about that audition?"  
"He's not a good fit. Maybe ensemble, but probably not even. Next!"  
The man who walked in next was... Unexpected.   
He had dark rings under his eyes and stubble on his face. His hair looked like a tangled mess where it stuck out of his misshapen beanie. His tank top exposed his tattooed upper arms and his bandaged forearms.   
Every guy Enjolras knew cleaned up nice for auditions, but this guy didn't seem to care.   
"All right," Combferre began. "We'll start with voice, Grantaire can you-"  
"R?" Enjolras barked in surprise.   
Grantaire looked at him bemusedly. "Oh. Hi. Enjolras?"  
"Yeah. Hi." Enjolras felt lost He knew R. R had been... Bright. Alive. This guy looked broken.   
R began to sing. Even the voice was different. Rougher.   
"Smoking?" He muttered to himself. Combferre shot him a look.   
The voice was still wonderful. Enjolras had nearly fallen in love with that voice all those years ago. He used to have dreams about that voice.   
He'd wanted to ask him out. He'd finally worked up the courage when R showed up with the exciting news.   
"Thank you, Grantaire. We'll definitely be in contact."  
Enjolras snapped back to the present to see R grabbing a beat up workout bag.   
"Thanks," he muttered before heading out.   
"Now he-" Combferre began excitedly.   
Enjolras cut him off. "Sorry, Ferre. I need to go." Enjolras was heading out the door before he could respond.   
\----------  
"R? Hey, R!" Enjolras called, running down the street. "Hold up a minute?"  
R stopped, but didn't turn around. "It's uh. It's Grantaire. I don't go by R anymore."  
"Oh. Sorry. How are you Grantaire? How's Wyatt?"  
"Yeah. We're good."  
"Can we grab some coffee? It's been years. I'd like to-"  
R- Grantaire- turned his head just a bit, giving Enjolras a glimpse of his nose. "I have to get home."  
"How about tonight?"  
"I'm busy."  
"How about-"  
"I'm late. I gotta go. Im sorry."  
Enjolras watched him walk away. Even the walk was different. He seemed to fold in on himself. Enjolras knew Grantaire to be over 6 feet, but now he seemed smaller than Courfeyrac.   
Something was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

"I still haven't been able to clean the apartment," Jehan says. "I told myself that I would have it done by now. Her sweater is still on the couch. Her pocketbook is still the table." They shrug, but their voice has gone high and strained. "Her shoes are all over the bedroom. Did you know," he laughs, but it's a rather dead laugh. "I threw away the cup she'd been drinking from that morning a while back. I ended up going through half the buildings garbage to get it back."  
Di had committed suicide. She'd slit her wrists in the bathtub.   
Jehan hadn't been able to tell them what their arm said. Enjolras wasn't surprised. Suicides tended to leave an astonishing load of guilt.   
"I told myself that by the one year anniversary I'd have it cleaned. But here we are. It's been a year today."  
Anniversaries were the worst. Enjolras made sure to approach them at the end of the meeting.   
"Will you be safe tonight?"  
They gripped their forearm to their chest. "I don't know."  
"Do you want to crash by someone else tonight?" Jehan had no family. No one else to go to.   
"No. I need to be out."  
"Can you-" Enjolras took a deep breath. "Can you promise you'll call if you're considering anything dangerous?"  
"I... Yes."  
"Good. Thank you. Jehan? I want to see you at the next meeting, okay? Tomorrow will be better."  
"And every day gets easier. I know. It's just hard to believe it sometimes. Good night Enjolras."  
"Good night."  
\----------  
Enjolras walked into his empty apartment and settled down with his laptop. It was easy to find Grantaire. He was still in theater, though the parts and productions he was taking on were nothing compared to what he had been doing. He was still  
Mostly doing musicals. But there were also a few plays, 2 ballets and some sort of Christmas production. No social media though, and besides a wedding photo, nothing personal.   
Enjolras had been at that wedding. It'd been the last time he saw Grantaire. Grantaire had been happy at the wedding. That had been a big reassurance at the time. At least Grantaire was happy.   
He'd invited Grantaire to his wedding, but he'd gotten no response.   
He needed to know what happened. What went wrong.   
Who could he go to? Who were his friends?  
Oh, he thought. Of course. Her.   
He had to speak to her.   
She was even easier to find.   
She was big in theater. She'd taken more leading roles in the past few years than most people got in their whole lives. She looked happy.   
Enjolras was glad of that. So few of his friends were happy.


	4. Chapter 4

He waited patiently at the stage door with a crowd of fans. Two people had recognized him and asked for selfies, which was a surprise considering how he'd been out of theater for two years now. The orchestra came out first. Enjolras knew one or two of them and exchanged quick greetings.   
One of the actors who came out had been his costar in his last show and he ducked away to avoid recognition.   
She was the last person to come out, not surprising considering how much more makeup she had to take off. Enjolras waited as she greeted her fans.   
He waited until she was walking away before making his approach.   
"Musichetta?"  
She turned slowly, reaching into her bag for the mace she always carried.   
"Wait! No. It's me. Enjolras. Sorry."  
"Enjolras!" She exclaimed, turning fully, smiling brightly. Then her voice went stern. "Don't sneak up on people in the street at night."  
"Sorry, it was an accident."  
"How are you? I'm so sorry about Gil. I tried to call-" She cut herself off.   
Musichetta was not the only friend who'd reached out to him, nor was she the only one whom he'd ignored. Well, not ignored. More just dropped the ball on.   
"Sorry. I haven't been a great-"  
"No. I get it. I mean, I don't get it, but, you know?"   
"Yeah. I know. You heading home? I'll walk with you?"  
Musichetta wrapped an arm around his waist and began walking. There were still streaks of green at her temple and in the corner of her nose.  
"So. What brought you over here?"  
"I wanted to ask you about Grantaire."  
Her face fell. "Oh."  
"Oh? Oh, what?"  
"It's been a while," she said, smiling softly. "Have you seen him?"  
"Yeah. He auditioned over at my friend's show."  
"Which friend?"  
"Combferre. You know him?"  
"We haven't met, but I'm dying to work with him. They say he's some sort of genius. How did he look?"  
"Awful."  
Her face fell even further. "I was worried you would say that."  
"How did you lose contact with him?"  
"He cut me off. Cut us all off. Avoided us. Wouldn't take calls or answer texts. When we pushed, he'd make excuses. Apologize. Say he was just busy or that Wyatt needed him. Then we lost touch altogether. Half a year later I was on a show with him. 5 months. Anytime I tried to have a non work-related conversation he ran off."  
She looked miserable and Enjolras couldn't stand it. "How's Joly?"  
She brightened at that. "He's wonderful. He's in his residency now."  
"Still engaged?"  
"Yup. We're not in any rush, you know? We're happy like this." She stopped walking. "Well, here's my building. Will you come up and say hello to Joly?"  
"Not tonight. But let's trade numbers. I want to stay in touch this time."  
He walked away feeling strangely lighter.


	5. Chapter 5

Combferre loved auditions. It was like theater porn. More talent came pouring through audition doors in a week than most people saw in years. And yeah, it sucked turning people away, but there was a definite high in casting someone.  
“Next.”  
The door opened and in walked-  
“Enjolras?”  
“I’m here to audition for the role of the general.”  
Inside, Combferre was dancing around, screaming with joy. On the outside, he was a professional.  
“Let’s start with voice.”  
\----------  
“We met as children, you know. We went to grade school together. Our parents tried to keep it quiet, but people figured out that we were soulmates in 5th grade. We got a bit of flack for it. Seems people don’t believe children can be gay. Either way, it wasn’t easy. It was like growing up married. There was no chance to explore who we were, what we wanted. I didn’t know I was bi yet. She didn’t know she was trans. Either way, I was about 12 when I learned about,” he paused here. “About sex. I just.. I freaked. Suddenly, there was his pressure. I knew I was going to be expected to-. She was going to expect-. I couldn’t-. I don’t-." He took a shaky breath. "I broke up with her. Transferred to a different school. Wouldn’t talk to her. You have to understand,” he turned to Enjolras pleadingly.  
“We do, Bossuet. Go on.”  
“I wasted three years. And we were both miserable the whole time. Wasted so much time. And then we ran out.”  
There was silence for a few minutes. Then Enjolras began quietly. “Thank you for sharing that. It must have been very hard for you. I can’t imagine living with that pressure.”


	6. Chapter 6

“So you really think Grantaire’s the reason he’s getting back in the business?”  
“Yup. Courf, you should’ve seen him when he walked in. And when he was singing. And when he went to chase after him. But the man’s a wreck. I’ve been looking at older photos of him and something’s gone very wrong.”  
Courfeyrac sighed and moved to sit next to him.  
On Ferre’s laptop screen was a picture of a dark young man in a sparkly pink vest. It was an after party and he was smiling. He had the look of a man who was always laughing.  
“This is him nine years ago. He and Enjolras were acting together back then. He was a rising star. His name was everywhere. People loved him. The media loved him.” Combferre pulled up a different tab. “Here he is a year later.”  
The change wasn’t so drastic, but it was frightening.The laughter was gone from his face. His eyes were almost blank.  
The picture was taken on a stage. A couple of cast members were playing around with the bird puppets. Grantaire was slumped over a prop table in the background, staring into a cup of coffee. “He started taking smaller roles, stopped going to awards ceremonies, stopped agreeing to interviews for two years. He lost his popularity. There are almost no public photos of him. This one happened to be posted to another cast member's twitter account.”  
“That does look bad.”  
Combferres sighed. “No. This is nothing.” He pulled up the next photo. “Here he is at auditions yesterday.”  
Courf gasped. “He looks like-”  
“He looks like hell. And the way he acts, Courf. He moves like an angel and has the voice to match. But as soon as the music shuts off he fades to nothing and… I don’t know, Courf. It was like watching him die. And Enjolras was his friend. I can’t imagine what he was thinking.”  
“Do you think he’ll be okay?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Will you?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You’re wearing sleeves.”  
\----------  
“It’s been a bad week,” Combferre began haltingly. “I almost skipped this meeting.”  
“We’re glad you didn’t, Combferre,” Enjolras told him quietly as Courfeyrac reached for his hand.  
“I… um. I’ve been distracted. I forgot about his birthday. Birthdays were always so important to him. He’d go all out. Cake, cards, presents, flowers, balloons. You name it, he did it.” He shrugged. “And I forgot. I feel like I’ve betrayed him. I mean, the reason I was distracted-” he stopped.  
Enjolras waited a moment before prompting him. “Would you like to tell us the reason, Combferre?”  
“I-. Sorry. I-. Not yet.”


	7. Chapter 7

Working with Grantaire was painful. He wouldn’t talk. He showed up, practiced and left as soon as rehearsals ended. He was constantly stepping away to smoke, to get coffee, to answer his calls.  
Whenever he came back from a call, he’d be rubbing his bandaged forearm in a distracted sort of way.  
But when he took to the stage… Oh, when he took to the stage it was like watching a sunrise. Everything melted away. Enjolras could practically see his costume, the sets, the stage lights. When Grantaire sang, he could hear the orchestra playing along.  
Enjolras kept trying though. When conversation sent him running, he tried simply sitting with him. He brought him coffees. It took two weeks for Grantaire to even accept one.  
But Grantaire didn’t talk to him off the stage. Never more than a grunt of thanks.  
Not until the last week of rehearsals anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

“ I want to talk about love,” Jehan began. “Love after loss.”  
Half the room froze. It was like everyone was holding their breaths.  
“Is it a betrayal to Di if I fall in love again? Can I even be in love again or am I playing myself?”  
“That’s not an easy question, but it is one we can all benefit from discussing.”  
“I’ve um… I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Bahorel put in, pointedly not looking at anyone.  
Courfeyrac cleared his throat and glanced towards Combferre for a fraction of a second. “Me, uh...me too.”  
“Why don’t you tell us about what’s been going on with you, Jehan?”  
“It was the um, the anniversary. I went out walking. Got into a bit of a situation.”  
Enjolras frowned. “Jehan, you-”  
“I know. I’m sorry. It wasn’t on purpose, okay? Either way, there was a man. He stepped in. Probably saved my life. If i’m being honest, I can’t really say I’m grateful-”  
“I am.”  
“Either way, he showed up in my kitchen a few days later,” They smiled a little. “Made me pancakes and coffee. At one in the morning.  
“In your kitchen?”  
“Yeah. He broke in. Either way, he’s asked me out. Twice now. Doesn’t seem to care that we’re not soulmates. And I want to say yes. But I feel guilty.”  
“Jehan, I never met Di, but after all these meetings, I feel like i know her. I think she would be very happy that you found someone. I think she would want you to be happy.”  
Jehan turned white. “No,” they whispered. “No that’s not what she would want.”


	9. Chapter 9

Thursday, the last week before previews, Grantaire came in with a black eye.  
“What happened?” Combferre demanded.  
“Bar fight,” Grantaire mumbled, turning away.  
“Barfight? We’re 4 days to opening! What were you thinking? You’re supposed to be a professional!”  
“Ferre, it’s okay,” Courfeyrac interjected, resting a hand on his shoulder. “In four days, the bruising will go down and Cosette will probably be able to cover it easily.”  
“That’s not the point!”  
“He’ll be more careful now, right Grantaire?”  
“Yeah, Sorry.” Grantaire slouched away.  
“Why-?” Combferre began angrily.  
“Not here, Ferre. When we get home I’ll explain.”  
“Courf-”  
“Trust me. Please. Do you trust me?”  
“Yes. Okay.”  
“Thank you.”  
\----------  
“Grantaire!” Enjolras called afer him.  
He didn’t stop walking.  
“Grantaire! Wait!” Enjolras sped up.  
“Would you leave me alone?” Grantaire asked when he caught up. He had his head down, hands shoved in his pockets and he was walking fast.  
“You don’t drink.”  
“It’s been nine years. People change.”  
“No. No. You hate alcohol.You used to rant about-”  
“Nine years.”  
“Who did this? Was it-?  
That made Grantaire turn on him. “People change, Enjolras! It happens! Just because you’ve stayed exactly the same-.” He cut himself off. “I’m not one of your causes! I don’t need your help and I don’t need your coffee!” He lowered his voice. “Now I need to get home. So can you please, please just leave me alone.”  
He turned and ran off leaving Enjolras stunned.


	10. Chapter 10

"I was dating someone else when I met Simone." Bahorel began. "I broke up with him to be with her. I wasn't even attracted to her. I mean, I loved her, but I didn't want to-. What does being soulmates mean? Does a female soulmate mean I'm not gay?"  
"I don't think it works like that," Bossuet answered. "I mean, I'm bi. If sexuality was decided by soulmates why would that even be possible?"  
"So then what does being soulmates mean? Is it a guarantee of love? Is it a promise to do whatever you can to make them happy?"  
"Well, I don't think it's that," Jehan said bitterly.   
"I don't either," Enjolras agreed.  
The group lapsed into silence.   
"What if being soulmates doesn't mean anything?" Enjolras asked, rubbing his eyes against a sudden wave of exhaustion.  
Courfeyrac tapped him on the shoulder. "Enjolras, may I speak with you a moment?" He asked urgently.   
\----------  
"I need you to think," Courfeyrac whispered, once the door had closed behind them. "This is a support group for people who have lost their soulmates. And in this room, they all loved their soulmates. Please, don't let your doubts about Grantaire cause them to doubt their own lost loved ones."  
"I'm allowed to speak-!" He began angrily, but Courfeyrac cut him off, shushing him.   
"Of course you're allowed to. But you shouldn't. You've never doubted Gil. Why should you make Feuilly doubt Elaine? Combferre doubt Andre? Dahlia doubt Zephine? It doesn't feel fair to them."  
"I didn't-"  
"They've all lost their soulmates. They don't want to hear that being soulmates may not mean anything. Enj, I don't want to hear it. It hurts, Enj, and I think that if you thought about that idea in terms of Gil, you might-." He stopped, because Enjolras had turned white. "Do you need a minute?"  
"No. Let's go back."  
\----------  
Enjolras apologized to the group, explaining that he had brought the topic up for the wrong reasons. They ended the session after that.   
Jehan stayed sitting as the rest of the group filed out, rather somberly.   
"Is something wrong, Jehan?"   
"Yes. No. Not more than usual."  
"Did you want to share something with the group?"  
"Maybe." Jehan shrugged. "I don't know."  
"Do you want to share something with me?"  
Jehan smiled. "I feel like I've been dominating the meetings, but I've been having a bit of a crisis."  
"You can share whenever you like, Jehan. Don't worry about us."  
Jehan rolled up their sleeve, carefully looking away, so as not to see the words, the last lie Di had told them.   
"I just want you to be happy," they said bitterly. "It was the last thing she said to me. She doesn't want me happy. She wouldn't want me seeing Montp-. Enolras, she doesn't want me happy," their voice went a little shrill.   
Enjolras frowned. "Then why should you care about what she wanted?"  
Jehan smiled again. "That's what he said when I showed him. He was a little ruder about it though."  
"You told him?" Enjolras whispered, feeling just on the right side of giddy. "Jehan, that's-"  
"Yeah." They bit back what might have been a hysterical giggle. "I went out with him. I just still don't know."


	11. Chapter 11

Enjolras had started the group two years ago, about a month after Gil's death. He, Ferre, Courf, and Gil had been close friends, working on the same show. Courf and Combferre had already lost their soulmates and when Gil passed, they were there to offer support.  
Together, they started the Amis as a way to share that support with others.   
The group had grown slowly. They now had eleven regular members and five who came by on occasion. Enjolras had become close with all his members. It gave him a focus. Helped him assuage his guilt.   
There had been a fire in their home. Gil had made it out. Enjolras hadn't.   
He was an idiot. He'd stopped to grab his laptop and gotten trapped in the bedroom.   
And Gil- stubborn, loving, brave, stupid Gil- had run back in to retrieve him.   
Enjolras had lived. Gil died of smoke inhalation.   
'Enjolras, this wasn't your fault.' It was one of the last things Gil had said to him.   
The guilt had nearly killed Enjolras.   
The support group was there to help him more than anyone else.   
\----------  
Enjolras didn't try to speak to Grantaire over the next few days. Grantaire seemed more focused than ever. He showed up early to rehearsals and lingered a few minutes longer, before running out like a maniac.   
Enjolras worried.   
The morning of opening night found Enjolras, Combferre and Courfeyrac sitting on the stage having coffee. Courfeyrac was switching out the buttons on the General's jacket.   
Ferre and Enjolras had a rule. Opening night didn't exist from the midnight before until the cast arrived.   
Instead, they discussed politics, food, really anything.   
Following his new trend, Grantaire showed up early. He walked slowly, very slowly, ignoring them entirely, as he headed straight for his dressing room.   
All three of them stared after him.   
"I'm going to talk to him," Enjolras said abruptly, getting to his feet.   
"Enj-"  
Enjolras shook his head tiredly. "I'll be back in a minute when he throws me out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments??


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I just realized how short my chapters are???? Like I'm not gonna change it or anything, but holy cow!

\----------  
The door to Grantaire's dressing room was open about an inch.   
Enjolras knocked once and it swung open.   
"Grantaire!" He gasped, standing frozen, his hand still raised to knock.   
Grantaire turned sharply, banging his foot and gasping in pain.   
His ankle was bruised and swollen.   
"I can still dance," he said desperately, getting up quickly-  
-and immediately falling, his leg folding beneath him. "Sorry. Sorry." He grabbed the chair, attempting to pull himself up. "I got up too quickly. I'm telling you, I can still dance. Don't tell Combferre. Please." He was begging, reaching a hand out towards Enjolras as he stood slowly. "Just let me put back on the ace bandage. I'll show you. I can-"  
Enjolras finally found his voice. "Grantaire, what happened?" He took Grantaire's arm and helped him sit.  
"I tripped, just-" he grabbed for the ace bandage.   
"Here, let me text-"  
"Not Combferre. Please."  
"Just hold on." He shot out a text.   
Grantaire grabbed his hand. "I have to dance. I have to."  
Enjolras stared down at their hands for a moment, before tearing his eyes away forcefully.   
"You have to get this checked out. Give me a minute. I'll get an ice pack. I'll be right back."  
"Don't tell-"  
"I won't say anything yet. Okay? I promise."  
\----------  
"I'll be there in three minutes, Enj. I'm glad you called me."  
"Please just hurry,"  
"I'm moving as fast as I can, love."  
"I'm waiting for you at stage door."  
Enjolras did a double take as Joly came in to view.   
"Musichetta didn't mention-"  
"Later," Joly said, wrapping him in a hug. "It's great to see you. It's been- what? Six years?"  
"I think four. He's inside."  
\----------  
"Oh, Grantaire, what's happened to you?" Joly knelt carefully beside him and handed Enjolras his cane.   
Grantaire pulled in on himself, dropping his head, folding his arms tightly, curling in his legs as best as he could. "I tripped," he muttered.   
"No, love, not the foot. What-." Enjolras put a hand on his shoulder. Joly frowned up at him, before turning back to Grantaire. "Give me your foot, sweetheart."  
Grantaire extended the battered leg, but otherwise stayed curled tight.   
Joly examined the foot, whispering a quick apology when Grantaire hissed in pain.   
"You've got a slight sprain, honey," he said finally. "You're gonna have to rest this for a bit."  
Grantaire looked up at that. "No. I can't. I have to perform tonight." The desperation was coming back in his eyes and Enjolras shivered. "Just tonight. Then I can rest. Please."  
Joly frowned. "I don't like it, R."  
Grantaire flinched.   
"Did I-"  
"Please."  
"If we ice it," Joly said hesitantly, glancing up at Enjolras, worriedly. "If we wrap it, maybe- maybe- the damage won't get worse. But," he bit his lip, glancing up again, "I doubt you'll be able to dance even with all that. The pain-"  
"I can do it. I can do pain."  
Enjolras frowned and Joly turned pale.   
"Wrap it. Please"  
Joly took the ace bandage and began wrapping. When he finished, he picked up the first ice pack and held it out to Grantaire. "Here. Keep it iced until-" He cut off as Grantaire reached out to take the ice. "Are you bleeding?"  
Sure enough, Enjolras could see blood on the bandages covering Grantaire's forearm.   
"Give me your arm, Grantaire," Joly said quietly.   
"It's okay. I took care of it."  
"Let me see it, love."  
Grantaire stayed frozen, neither extending his hand, nor retracting it. Joly took the arm gently and began to unwrap it. Grantaire turned away and closed his eyes.   
The blood was coming from three fresh cuts crisscrossing his arm. Under that was a web of scars, 5 nearly healed cuts, and the words "I'm doing this because I love you."  
Enjolras thought he'd be sick.  
"Grantaire?" Joly sounded near tears.  
"It lies," Grantaire said quietly, barely audibly. "It gets the wrong things."  
"Grantaire."  
"Please. Just cover it again. It's okay."  
The door swung open. Marius poked his head in. "Enjolras, Grantaire. Costuming wants you." He left quickly.   
"My arm. Joly, please."  
Joly began cleaning the cuts. "Go, Enjolras."  
Enjolras turned to Grantaire. "Hey." Grantaire looked up miserably. "We're talking later. Me and you. You know that, right?"  
Grantaire nodded even more miserably.   
"I'll see you on the stage. You'll be careful of that foot?"  
He nodded again, before dropping his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send those comments!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY BIG TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSE! There's not much violence, but... It's not good.

Enjolras watched Grantaire as much as he could throughout the performance. He favored his right foot heavily, but performed beautifully.  
His rough voice smoothed out perfectly and Enjolras's breath caught as he remembered exactly why he'd fallen for this man all those years ago.  
As the play progressed, as he watched Grantaire stumble each time they went backstage, as he watched Grantaire's face twist in pain each time his back was on the audience, Enjolras could feel a helpless rage welling up inside him.  
He wanted to murder Wyatt.  
Backstage after the show, his Amis were waiting for him along with Joly, Musichetta and a tall man in a very fancy coat.  
There were hugs all around and congratulations over and over again, but Enjolras was stuck in a high alert state, desperate to punch something.  
"Have you seen Grantaire?" He asked. Joly and Musichetta shook their heads, but Marius, who was rushing by with a pile of costumes interjected with, "He's gone. He left immediately."  
Enjolras flew out the stage door, rushing past the waiting fans. He knew which way Grantaire went each day, so he ran- hoping it was the right direction- and Jehan, Bahorel and Musichetta ran with him.  
Enjolras was just about ready to give up, when he heard voices coming from an alleyway.  
"Come on. It's cold," Wyatt was saying. "It's a short walk. What are you? An old man?" He lit a cigarette. "So, anyway, I guess you _were _in a play. I was sure you were lying."__  
Grantaire was leaning heavily against a wall, his head down, curls falling in his face.  
"You sucked up there, R. You can't sing worth a damn. I don't know why they picked you."  
Enjolras and Musichetta, who had been standing, frozen, now made to move, but Jehan grabbed them both. "Wait," he mouthed. "Another minute."  
"Think you impressed that pretty boy you like? You should've seen the looks he gave you. Looked like he was gonna vomit. Let's go!" He shoved Grantaire, who fell down hard, didn't even try to-  
"Being in love with someone else when I-your soulmate- take care of you? When I love you? You deserve this." He raised a foot and kicked Grantaire in the ribs.  
"NO!" Enjolras was yelling and suddenly, inexplicably, Wyatt was falling.  
Enjolras ran to Grantaire, who was curled up on the ground where he'd fallen, coughing blood.  
"Grantaire," he whispered, touching his shoulder, his arm, his head. His hands fluttered uselessly and he kept repeating Grantaire's name like a mantra, like a prayer.  
Then Bahorel was gently pushing him aside and somehow Combferre was there. He was cradling Grantaire's head.  
Courfeyrac was pulling Enjolras away, but he struggled, trying uselessly to get back to Grantaire's side.  
He found he was sobbing as Bahorel finally managed to restrain him in a tight hug.  
"He's okay," Courfeyrac kept saying. "We've got him. Ferre's got him. Montparnasse is dealing with that asshole. He's okay. It's okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was.... Either way, I hope you enjoyed. (Is enjoyed the word??)  
> Leave comments!  
> (Also, this story has a lot of dead ocs and as you can see I like taking breaks from the main storyline to chat about them. If you want to hear about someone's soulmate whom I haven't mentioned or want to hear more about any of them, let me know and I'll see if I can fit them in!)


	14. Chapter 14

"You can stop now!" Jehan was saying urgently as the others left them. "'Parnasse, you can stop now!"  
Montparnasse was still punching and kicking the unconscious bastard. He was ignoring Jehan. Barely seemed to notice them standing there.  
"Montparnasse!" Jehan reached out and grabbed his shoulder, a bit desperately, only to be elbowed roughly in the stomach.  
Jehan doubled over, before collapsing to their knees.  
Immediately, Montparnasse was beside them, pale and horror stricken.  
"I'm sorry! Jehan-" there were tears running down his face. Jehan thought he might have been crying a while now. "I didn't m-. It was an accident! I'm sorry! Are you okay?"  
His voice was pleading and scared.  
Jehan caught their breath and reached out to reassure him.  
Montparnasse jerked away.  
They sat there on the ground, the unconscious man forgotten, unsure what to do or say.  
"I'm sorry," Jehan finally says. "I didn't mean-"  
Montparnasse shakes his head frantically. "No you didn't-" he cuts off. His teeth are chattering.  
Jehan reaches out to him slowly. This time he doesn't pull away. He goes tense as Jehan's arm circle him, but only for a second.  
Then he's melting into Jehans arms, sobbing into their shoulder.  
\----------  
Grantaire woke quickly, but kept very still. He listened for the sounds of Wyatt's breathing, but didn't hear it. Wyatt must have woken before him. He stayed very still, hoping for just a few extra minutes of saf- of peace.  
"Grantaire? Grantaire, love? Are you awake?"  
His eyes shot open. "Joly! I- Where-?" His voice cut off as an overwhelming terror seized him. He hadn't gone home. Wyatt was going to kill him! He tried to sit up, but his vision blurred and Joly pushed him down again.  
"You had a concussion. You're heads gonna bother you for a while."  
"Wyatt-"  
"Isn't going to bother you. Ever again."  
"Where am I?"  
"Enjolras's apartment."  
"You sound different."  
"So do you, honey. Try to sleep."  
"You should sleep," Grantaire mumbled. "You look dead."  
"He's right," a large man whom Grantaire didn't know said, walking up behind Joly and taking his shoulder. "Get some sleep."  
"I'm not tired," Joly said.  
Only Grantaire noticed those words appearing on the large man's arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter didn't get any feedback. I hope it was okay?  
> Please send comments for this chapter. I want to know if you're enjoying this.  
> Reminder that if you want to hear more about any of the dead oc's (or ones I haven't mentioned yet) let me know which one(s).


	15. Chapter 15

The mood in Enjolras's living room was subdued.  
"Where's Jehan?" Enjolras finally asked, breaking the long silence.  
"They texted," Combferre whispered. "They say they're taking care of Montparnasse. Did something happen to him?"  
"I don't think so."  
The door to Enjolras's bedroom opened again and Bossuet emerged, Joly leaning on his arm.  
They walked to the couch and sat beside Musichetta.  
"Thank you. Bossuet, right? I'm Joly and this is my fiancée, Musichetta.  
"It's , uh it's very nice to meet you." Bossuet stammered.  
Everyone lapsed into silence again.  
Enjolras was exhausted. He'd been up really early this morning and had performed late. He'd come off the adrenaline from performing with a headache and vine straight into the emotional whiplash of seeing Grantaire- he couldn't even say it.  
-And Joly! He'd forgotten!  
"Joly, y-" he stopped. This was too much of a crowd to ask what he belatedly realized is probably a sensitive matter.  
But Joly smiled. Go ahead, hon. It's not taboo."  
"You're legs got worse?"  
"Yep."  
"So that doctor WAS wrong! You weren't imagining it! He should have his license revoked!"  
"That's what I said," Musichetta said bitterly.  
"Muse-"  
"No. He there should be consequences for that douche. Maybe if they'd started looking right away we'd have a diagnoses by now."  
"You're right, love. But there's nothing we can do about-" He cut off with a long yawn. "It's late and I don't have the energy to go down all those stairs right now. Do you mind if I-"  
"Yeah! Of course!" Enjolras blurted, jumping up to get some blankets.  
"You can wake me up if he needs anything."  
Enjolras nodded, but he wouldn't want to wake him even if Musichetta and Bossuet (?) weren't glaring that he better fucking not.  
"Can I get a blanket, too?" Combferre whispered. He was sitting very stiffly, being extra careful not to disturb Courfeyrac who had fallen asleep on his shoulder.  
\----------  
Enjolras woke an hour later shaking from a nightmare.  
"Are you okay?" Combferre asked him softly.  
"Huh?" Enjolras sat up slowly, nearly banging his head into the coffee table.  
"You were crying in your sleep."  
"It's nothing. Just a nightmare. Why aren't you sleeping?"  
Combferre's eyes darted to Courfeyrac's head resting on his shoulder. "I didn't want to disturb him."  
"Ah."  
There was a long pause, than-  
"Enjolras, do you think he likes me?"  
"Of course. You're his best friend."  
Combferre's face drooped.  
"...that's not what you meant."  
Combferre shook his head slowly.  
"So you like Courf."  
"I think... Is it betraying Andre if I fall in love with someone else?"  
Enjolras frowned, rubbing his eyes. "We keep coming back to that, don't we? All of us."  
"Yeah. I think it's all any of us think about."  
"I think the answer's no. I think Andre would be happy to see you with someone who made you happy. I think he would've loved Courfeyrac."  
"Yeah. I wish they'd had a chance to meet," He said wistfully. "Can you imagine the birthday parties they'd have thrown?"  
Something clicked in Enjolras's brain "Is this why you were distracted then?"  
"Yeah." He frowned. "How did it take me so long?"  
"How did what take you so long?"  
"He's so amazing. How did it take me so long to realize id fallen in love with him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again please leave comments v  
> (Also, I'm a bit curious about whether anyone knows what plays everyone's in/has been in?? Based on random things throughout???)  
> Once again, if you want more backstory on any specific character, especially the dead ocs, let me know.


	16. Chapter 16

\----------  
The next time Grantaire woke, he could hear a voice behind the door.   
His usual terror subsided when he identified the voice as Musichetta's and remembered where he was.   
He got up slowly. His head was pounding and he could barely put his foot on the floor, but he needed the bathroom.  
Instead of returning to his bed afterwards, he hobbled to the door slowly, wanting to vomit from the pain.   
Everyone froze when he opened the door. Only for a moment though, then everyone was moving. Combferre and Enjolras were running to support him, practically carrying him to the couch. Courfeyrac was grabbing pillows. Joly was reaching for his cane to help, but it had rolled under the couch. Musichetta was running for the first aid kit.  
They settled him on the couch, helping him lay back and raise his leg. Then there was an uncomfortable silence.  
After a few minutes Musichetta broke in. "I'm so sorry, Grantaire. I didn't know he was-"  
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Grantaire said quickly "Wyatt is my soulmate. We're fine. He just got angry because of the lies and my cr-" he cut himself off "I need to call him, though. He worries if I'm late."  
"Grantaire –"  
"You don't know anything about us!" Grantaire yelled suddenly, trying to get up. "You don't even know Wyatt! He looks out for me. He loves me!" He stood quickly, momentarily forgetting his ankle, and went down hard  
"Grantaire –!" They all moved to help him but he held up a hand.  
"No just give me my phone, my shoes. I'll get out of here." He struggled to stand, balancing carefully on his right foot. "I don't need your help."  
"Here at least take my cane," Joly begged, holding it out.  
"We're sorry. Just let me drive you," Musichetta said quietly, standing slowly.  
Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, to stop them, but Combferre grabbed his shoulder.  
"You'll only make him angry. Make him defend Wyatt more."  
Enjolras watched helplessly as Musichetta helped Grantaire out of the apartment.  
"I'll be back with the spare cane soon, love," she called over her shoulder.   
Enjolras pulled out his phone. "Jehan I need to speak to your friend."  
\----------  
"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Jehan asked fretfully as they both quickly got dressed. "I don't want you reliving that again."  
Montparnasse turned to face them, looking them straight in the eye before saying "I do not want you to worry for me, Jehan Prouvaire."  
"Then I'll come with you. I'll be with you the whole time. That way I won't need to worry."  
"If you will be there then there is nothing to worry about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please leave comments.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for abuse. I've been just depressed enough to write this.

Grantaire hobbled up the stairs to the apartment he shared with Wyatt.  
The door was open and Grantaire could hear Wyatt's footsteps – Wyatt's angry footsteps – coming from inside. His hands shook as he opened the door.  
The living room was nearly empty, besides the boxes littering the floor. The door to the bedroom was open and Wyatt was moving around in there, muttering. With a curse Wyatt lifted a box and walked into the living room.  
"R? Seriously?" Wyatt lowered the box to the ground slowly. "You came back."  
Wyatt's face and arms were bruised.  
"I – of course. You're my soulmate."  
Wyatt walked around the box and took a step towards him. "And you're an idiot."  
"What?"  
"Who gave you the right to come back here? You set your dog on me, and think you can just come back?"  
Grantaire took a step back and tripped over a box. He started to get up, but Wyatt stopped him.  
"No," he said, smiling dangerously. "Stay there. It's out of my way. It works."  
Grantaire stayed down and Wyatt laughed.  
"What were you hoping to get in coming back here? Why do you always come back? Are you stupid?"  
"I love you," Grantaire said desperately, pleadingly.  
Wyatt glanced down at his forearm. "It says you're telling the truth, but we both know the mark lies."  
Wyatt reached down and took hold of Joly's cane, which Grantaire was still gripping like a lifeline. Wyatt gave a gentle tug and Grantaire's hands went slack.  
"That dog of yours is running me out of town, R, but I owe you for what he did to me. Should I get that other leg?" He tapped the cane against Grantaire's ankle, then trailed it up his side to rest at his throat. "That pretty voice?"  
Grantaire trembled, but otherwise remained motionless.  
"You deserve this," Wyatt practically snarled, raising the cane.  
"I'd put that down if I were you." A voice interrupted. Two unfamiliar people stood in the doorway, a redhead and a man brandishing a gun.  
"Put it down," the redhead repeated. "I don't like repeating myself." The person seemed calm, but Grantaire could see how their hand gripped the tall man's arm a little too tightly.  
"My friend here also doesn't like repeating himself and I'm pretty sure he already told you to keep your hands to yourself."  
The room was still. Grantaire heard himself whimper. The man with the gun gave him a sharp look.  
"Drop it!"  
Wyatt dropped the cane,putting his hands out to the side.  
"Step away from Grantaire." Wyatt obeyed instantly.  
"Now get the fuck out of my city," the armed man growled.  
"My stuff-!"  
"Be glad you still have your guts."  
Wyatt looked at the boxes, moved towards one. The gun clicked as the safety unlatched.  
"Run."  
Wyatt ran.  
Both people immediately went to Grantaire.  
"Grantaire? I'm Jehan. This is Montparnasse. Enjolras sent us."  
Grantaire was breathing too fast. He couldn't see or hear. He was shaking all over and all he could hear was the steady pounding of his blood in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have any idea how much I hate Wyatt?  
> Is it weird that I came up with another au and fucking put him in it??  
> The story will be shifting ficus in a bit as we move towards the recovery(?) stage of this little hell story. We'll be meeting new people and getting to know our side characters more.  
> Once again if your curious about any of the dead soulmates, there are some I've never discussed, some ice never named. If you want to hear about someone specific in an upcoming meeting... (That was too long)


	18. Chapter 18

Enjolras, Combferre and Courfeyrac were dead on their feet by the time they arrived in the theater the next day.  
There was a celebratory atmosphere and people kept congratulating them. The reviews had been wonderful. The play was everywhere.  
"But where is Grantaire?" Cosette finally asked when she'd finished hugging them all. "The star of the show and he's missing all the celebration."  
"His understudy!" Combferre blurted, getting up too quickly. "I need to talk to him! Where's Theo-?"  
He ran out of the room, leaving Enjolras to get his makeup done.  
"What happened, to Grantaire hon? Is he safe?"  
Enjolras shot her a look. "Yeah. He's at my place. How'd you know he was in trouble?"  
Cosette frowned. "I recognize the symptoms. I tried to talk to him, but..."  
"Yeah. I know."  
They were both silent as she applied his makeup, but when he got up to leave, she took his hand.  
"If you need advice or if... Well it's unlikely, but if HE wants to talk to someone, let me know. I know someone who could help."  
"Thank you, Cosette. I will."  
"Be gentle with him. He deserves it."  
"I will."  
\----------  
By the time Enjolras got home, it was quite late. Joly was asleep in the armchair and Bossuet was washing dishes. Bossuet jumped when Enjolras walked in and turned to face him wearing a decidedly sheepish face.  
"Um... Hey. I didn't mean to intrude or anything. I just thought... I had a day off and I...I thought I could help."  
Enjolras smiled tiredly. "It's okay. I'm glad you were there to help. How's Grantaire?"  
"He didn't come out today." Bossuet said as he opened the fridge. "It took Joly an hour to get him to eat some soup. Here. Should I heat this up for you?"  
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry. I-"  
"Unfortunately, I can't allow that. Joly said that if you don't eat I should wake him up and Musichetta said I'm not allowed to wake him up. So do you want some chicken or soup or both?"  
Enjolras frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't think-"  
"It's okay. Really."  
Bossuet sat with him as he ate. It was awkward at first. The two of them barely knew each other and what they did know were each other's deepest most personal thoughts.  
"This is really good. Where'd you order from?"  
Bossuet frowned. "I made it. I'm a chef?"  
Enjolras wanted to kick himself.  
\----------  
Enjolras finally entered his room, slowly and quietly.  
In the dark, he could see an outline of Grantaire curled up in his bed, unmoving.  
Needing reassurance, he moved to the bedside, listening until he heard the soft sounds of Grantaire's breathing.  
He wanted so badly to kiss Grantaire's forehead, or push back his hair or something, but he'd probably die before he touched him without permission.  
He turned the shower up too high and tried not to think about the pain in Grantaire's face even as he rested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucy_inthesky: ask and ye shall receive!  
> It's been way to long since I updated this story! Enjoy and please please comment

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on tumblr at actualplanetpluto.tumblr.com  
> I live for comments, so please.


End file.
